Playable history

Rebecca has this outrageous theory about my three favorite things in life. For nearly 16 years when we were service humans to our beloved dog Madison, she used to say the top-ranked items in my world were “Madison, Mustang and me” (meaning her), as in she played third fiddle to a dog and a car. Not just any dog or car, mind you. Still, she believed she was “last but not least” in the hierarchy. After we lost dear Maddie in April 2024, Rebecca’s ranking moved up a notch – maybe two. But I’m afraid her recent rise to the top may have been short lived, since I’ve added a new “M” to my list: “Martin.” As in C.F. Martin & Co., legendary maker of guitars and ukuleles.

With that, she presumes the order has become Mustang, Martin and her (meaning her).

Seriously, for most of my adult life, I’ve owned two acoustic guitars: a six string and a 12 string. I play to relax and because it makes me happy. And keeps the calluses on the tips of my fingers from disappearing.

Not that I’m selling it, but my vintage Blueridge six-string acoustic BR-OS classical acoustic goes for $200 on e-Bay. It’s in excellent condition and has served me well over the years. I prefer it for picking over strumming.

The other, a vintage Fender 12-string traditional Dreadnought acoustic with rosewood fingerboard, spruce top and mahogany back and sides, is a beauty. The serial number tells me it’s from the 1970s. Mine was manufactured in 1979. It goes for about $600 on eBay.

A 12-string guitar requires more finger strength and dexterity with those extra six strings, so it’s tougher to play. But strumming this guitar produces a bright and full-bodied tone that has an octave-rich sound.

Like an old hardwood floor – or, say a restored classic car – guitars are treasured as they age. The nicks and scratches in the wood are often telltale signs of what life has brought, both the bitter and the sweet.

I started taking guitar lessons when I was about 8 years old. Maybe it was Mom’s not-so-subtle way of getting me to attend Catechism classes on Saturday mornings at St. Juliana Catholic Church. Not that I’d ever refuse, but let me just say, those nuns were intimidating, sister.

I remember going to Massimino Music on 7 Mile Road and Van Dyke Avenue in Detroit for half-hour lessons. I can still picture my instructor, a short, handsome Italian guy with curly black hair. He was young, patient and kind, and he could play any Beatles tune by heart. Wish I could remember his name.

The hardest song I ever learned with more than three chords was George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord.” I can still play it! The irony that a song praising the Hindu god Krishna had encouraged me to go to Catechism isn’t lost on this recovering Catholic. (Sorry, Mom.)

That East Side music store is long gone, just like many landmarks from the old neighborhood, including my grandparents’ brick house on Wilfred with an upper flat where we once lived.

Anyway, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to own a Martin guitar. Not just for the prestige of having a Martin, but also because it’s the best guitar on the planet. Such a rich history, high-quality materials and meticulous craftsmanship.

Or to quote my old friend JD: “Eat, drink, make merry and buy the guitar … for tomorrow you may die. Says it right in the bible.” (Thanks, man.)

In mid-1950s Memphis, Elvis Presley played a 1942 Martin D-18 that sold at auction for $1.32 million in 2020. Others who have played Martins include Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan and John Lennon. And, of course, the legendary Joni Mitchell’s Martin D-28, known as “dear one,” which was previously owned by a Vietnam War military veteran.

What can I say? Martin is the bomb. It’s what an acoustic guitar should sound like no matter how you play it. Even for an old finger-pickin’/strummin’ fool like me.

It’s true that Martins improve with age, producing an even richer, more resonant sound as the wood dries and becomes less flexible over time. Plus, they’re easy to play, which at my age, is definitely appealing. These fingers aren’t as nimble as they used to be.

Built since 1833, “a Martin isn’t just a guitar,” according to their website. It’s playable history. Apparently, Civil War soldiers strummed these guitars around campfires and helped shape the sound of modern music at the turn of the 20^th century. Pretty cool.

How Martin came to be a company is a familiar story of the Great American Dream.

In 1833, Christian Frederick Martin, his wife and two children arrived in New York City from Germany. They came to America seeking opportunity and freedom. They settled at 196 Hudson Street, where the first Martin workshop was based for six years.

Nearly 200 years later, C.F. Martin & Co.’s headquarters has remained in Nazareth, in the Lehigh Valley region of eastern Pennsylvania, since 1839. C.F. Martin IV, the third-great-grandson of the founder, retired as CEO but maintains a seat on the board as executive chairman.

For my 65^th birthday in April, I wanted a new guitar, yet something different from the other two. Rebecca offered to buy it for me. Four months later, after far too much googling and comparison research in real time and on YouTube, I finally added one to my collection: a smaller, three-quarter size guitar, better known as a “Little Martin LXK2.”

Martin is the Cadillac of acoustic guitars. A parlor guitar, this one may be small, but it’s big on tone and quality. I chose the darker koa wood finish with high-pressure laminate back, sides and top. Simply beautiful.

Securely snuggled in its padded black gig bag, “Little M” will accompany me/us to Florida next winter. And pretty much whenever we take a camping trip in the RV. I can almost feel myself breaking into “Kumbaya” at this moment.

This year, the Martin D-300 (“D” is for Dreadnought, their signature body shape) acoustic is a limited edition that celebrates the company’s 3 millionth serialized guitar. With an Adirondack spruce top featuring sycamore and silver inlay rings and gold dots marking significant moments in Martin’s 192-year history, only 30 of these guitars were made. Thirty.

They go for $300,000 each.

Thanks again, Rebecca. Best birthday gift ever.

And don’t fret. You’ll always be No. 1, list or no list.

(YouTube audio only: Here’s country singer-songwriter Wynonna Judd singing – and playing – “Girls With Guitars” from her 1993 album “Tell Me Why.” Lyric highlights: “She begged and she pleaded till Dad finally listened/He drove her in the car down to Sears Roebuck/He bought her that guitar and that was the beginning/Now she’s down in the cellar with the amp turned up.)